Turtle Soup
by TTRAnimus
Summary: Don gets forced to cook the Thanksgiving Turkey when he's turtlenapped by his brothers. This chore, combined with new interests in his younger brother, have the techno turtle very frazzled. Will he survive? Don/Mikey


**Bold** is thought

Warning: Don/Mike and Turkey Violence

Disclaimer: I do not own the Ninja Turtles, although I wish I did so that I could put Thanksgiving mayhem into an episode. XD

Okay then, well, this was one of my old fics that I did, and I meant to upload it for Thanksgiving, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. Well, I hope you like this little post-seasons greeting anyway!

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Today was going to be the worst day in the world, and Donatello Hamato knew it as he knew that his bandanna was purple and that he was a mutant turtle. He had been trying to bomb proof the kitchen for several weeks now to get in preparation for Thankgiving. Thanksgiving was the one day in the year that Master Splinter forced them to cook anything…it was a tradition, and a ruthless game in strategy.

The purple-clad turtle was in his laboratory, the seat under him becoming a bit damp with his perspiration after a night's work on the kitchen. Deep breaths, in and out, in and out, were the only sounds in the room before the techno turtle gave a small chuckle.

**They cannot possibly wreck the kitchen like they did last year,** he thought to himself between quick breaths as he rested his tired limbs. It was several hours, or minutes, before he could move himself into a sitting position and even more time until he could actually stand up and stretch.

Donatello adjusted his bandanna with lithe and calloused fingers, making the fabric stretch against his face as he walked towards the lab door with steady steps. He felt confident for once in his life before Thanksgiving, due to the work that he had put into making the kitchen indestructible.

Right before he reached the door, though, he hesitated, mind still thinking back into what he saw last year. Raphael had been "abducted" and deemed to make the turkey last year. What he remembered was that everyone was sick, burned, cut, had broken something or was bruised due to something involving that spicy turkey. Donatello himself had been struck temporarily blind when a rather Tabasco-saturated piece of turkey leg had gotten Tabasco sauce into his eyes.

He shivered with the memory of trying to treat his brother while blind. Donatello opened the door to his lab to a pleasant site, the site of no one cooking and everyone just doing their ordinary routines. They did not even seem to notice that today was the dreaded Thanksgiving. He treaded towards his younger brother, Michelangelo, who was watching a monster movie on the television.

"Hey Mikey," Donatello greeted, sitting down on the couch next to his sibling.

"Hey!" Mikey greeted back, a wide grin on his face that only came when he was watching a show.

Donatello reached over to take some popcorn from the bowl on Mikey's lap (he never did that with his older siblings), but his hand was caught by Mikey's. Giving a nervous laugh, he looked up to see the mischievous grin that had replaced the expression from earlier. Donatello had not really paid attention to what Leonardo and Raphael were doing, but noticed that everything seemed to be quiet…too quiet. He felt his throat go down into his stomach as he was hoisted up into the air and thrown over the shoulder by a dark green turtle he could only assume to be Raphael. Leonardo was close by, and Donatello saw him as he struggled to break free from his hot heat brother's grasp. **No, it can't be!** the techno turtle thought to himself as he continued to struggle, noting the way that they were going.

There was a path that went only to the dreaded kitchen, and he recognized the bitter smell of metal that he had used to cover up wooden surfaces that were susceptible to being destroyed by the inexperienced cooks. While Raphael was carrying the techno turtle over to where he would be forced to make Thanksgiving dinner, Leonardo and Michelangelo trailed behind, both with faces full of relief. Donatello felt the urge to yell at them for ganging up on him, but he knew that his logical claims would be pointless as Raph dropped him onto the hard kitchen floor.

"Donnie, it's your turn to cook," Raphael hissed with a sadistic tone of voice as he stood with his arms crossed, looking at his younger brother.

Leonardo and Michelangelo conversed and laughed amongst themselves as Donnie huffed angrily. He wasn't the type of turtle to get angry often, but this was one of the things that would set him off. Unlike his older brother, Raph, though, he didn't act on his anger. Donnie's mind began to rush with things to say to get him out of this predicament.

As soon as he started to form a plan, however, he realized that getting past his three ninja brothers was near impossible. Raphael had tried that last year, and it had ended up with him getting a black remembered that incident quite well, if Raphael had escaped one of the other turtles would have had to make dinner…and that was too unbearable to even think about.

"It can't be that bad Donnie, just think of it as a science experiment!" Michelangelo spoke with a happy tone as he leaned on the doorway out of the kitchen, arms crossed.

"Yes, I'm sure it cannot be too difficult for you…" Leonardo nodded with a soft, mischievous chuckle that was half-hidden.

Donatello gave up, giving up a sigh as he got up off of the kitchen floor and gave a hard look towards his brothers. Two of his brothers, Raph and Leo, did not notice his glare because they were already halfway out of the only door that connected the kitchen from the rest of the lair. Mikey noticed though, and felt a bit of pity for his brother. He knew that his brother particularly hated to cook, more so then Raph and Leo and definitely more then him.

The youngest turtle actually enjoyed cooking, although he was not too good at it as of yet. Uncrossing his arms with a deep sigh, the orange-clad turtle bounded into the kitchen with a grin on his face. Donatello, meanwhile, was not too happy with what he had seen after he had turned around from glaring at his brothers. The turkey in the metal tray was moved from its place in the freezer to the metal counter top with a small grunt from the turtle. Already, the turkey looked in pretty bad shape, Don realized with a sigh as he saw the freezer burns that littered the turkey's squishy, pink skin.

He was too focused on the turkey to notice Mikey when the little turtle came into the kitchen. Donatello was focused on trying to figure out how to cook the turkey that he actually jumped when Mikey said hello. A quick, joking, slap to the purple turtle's shell by Mikey calmed down Don a bit as he gave a quick smile before turning back to the turkey. Water dripped down the thawing turkey's side like perspiration after a hard day's workout or a hot day.

Mikey started to speak and the older turtle did not listen, too worried about what he was going to cook. He couldn't make everyone throw up like Raphael did last time; he had to make the turkey perfect in every way!** Like a science experiment, like a science experiment… **Donatello thought to himself, the simple quote becoming a mantra that repeated in his head. The only time when he noticed that Mikey was speaking was when the other turtle nearly hit his head from stepping on a bit of turkey juice while he was speaking.

"Ow! Yea, I think that we could maybe help each other out. You and I cook together and we wouldn't have to cook next year! Two turtles are better then one!" Mikey said with a laugh right after he nearly hit his head.

"Sure, I guess…" Donatello replied lazily, still thinking.

"How about we spice it up with some things and put it in the oven? I mean, how long you think it'll cook for. Certainly not more then six hours the way that the dude is thawing," Mikey interjected intellectually, a thing that rarely happened with Mikey.

Donatello resisted the urge to laugh at how intelligent his brother sounded when it came to turkey cooking. The thing that kept him from laughing and telling his brother off was the memory of when Mikey was forced to cook the turkey. The orange-clad turtle was the only turtle to not incinerate the turkey, and the turkey that year was actually edible! Not to say that everyone exactly was well after eating said turkey, but it tasted better then both Leonardo's and Raphael's attempts. Without even thinking, Donatello started to nod his head, defeated.

Mikey, when he saw the nod, gave a quick churr and went to go and spices. For turtles living in the sewer, they had quite the spice rack. This spice rack included "spices" such as pepper, salt, and rosemary. Thankfully, there were no really hot spices. This was because Raphael had managed to use all of them up last year in his "hot-rod" turkey. Donatello still remained right in front of the turkey, but he looked back and saw the back of Mikey's shell. He turned his head around and focused on getting the knives from the drawer that was right below the table surface where the turkey was.

Mikey, meanwhile, continued to gather the spices that he could find in the pantry that was right across from Donatello. He couldn't help but look back once or twice at his older brother, and with each look he fought down a laugh. Mikey couldn't imagine that on the dreaded Thanksgiving they both would be cooking together.

He knew that Don would be cooking, it was his turn after all, but Mikey helping him with the meal was unfathomable. Mikey hated it when he had to cook turkey. Strange enough, though, he actually did not mind the stench of dead turkey or being in the cold kitchen. Mikey's right arm was starting to tire as he held the spices as his right arm reached for the Rosemary.

With a small, barely audible cry of victory, Mikey spun around on the heels of his feet and went back across to kitchen to where Don was. He resisted the urge to laugh as Don unconsciously placed the knives in smallest-to-biggest order. Mikey never thought of his older brother as have any sort of obsessive-compulsive issue, but apparently he was wrong.

"Did you get the right spices, Mikey?" Donatello inquired to the fellow turtle, picking up one of the bigger knives from the line that he had assembled.

"Of course, at least a couple out of this bunch oughta be the right spice we need!" Mikey replied, putting the spices on the counter before letting his arms rest at his sides.

Don internally sighed, his mind processing how many spices were on the counter. **Right spice? How am I supposed to know which spice is the right one, I'm not a cook!** Donatello moaned, exasperated, in his head in that one split second. He reached out a hand, wrapping it around a chipped bottle with a few flakes in it. Donatello looked at the clumsy, hand-written label on it, the label that said "Oregano" on it, and put it back down. He looked at all the other bottles, each with their own clumsy label that identified the many or few flakes that were in each bottle.

Donatello finally settled on the smooth, blue bottle of Rosemary flakes because he remembered how good the herb was on chicken. His eyes settled on the turkey again, giving thanks to the fact that his brothers had gotten the already gutted turkey. Even though he delt in science, including stuff that involved real tissue, he always hated the squishy foam-like sound that the turkey made when it was gutted.

Donatello sprinkled some of the Rosemary on the turkey as Mikey watched because he was curious as to what his brother was doing. The purple-cladded turtle pratically poured the herb on the chicken until he felt Mikey's hand on his arm. He looked down to the turkey and saw a couple of centimeters high pile of Rosemary on the center of the chicken. Donatello sighed in response to his mistake, and turned his head to see a laughing Mikey.

The turtle could not help but laugh with Michelangelo at his own mistake. In Donatello's opinion, if there was anything that his youngest brother was smart in, it was in how to make someone laugh. Just a second later, another herb bottle, the one belonging to Sage, was in the purple turtle's hand as he turned back to the turkey.

Without seeking any sort of advice from Mikey, he started to pour the sage onto the dead bird, stopping again when Mikey touched him with his arm. This continued for a while, Donatello picking out spices and putting them on top of the turkey. The only thing that kept him from drowning the turkey in the spices was Mikey, he knew.

"Wow, enough seasoning, bro?" Mikey bantered with a childish laugh as he pointed at the overly seasoned turkey in front of Donatello.

"What? At least I didn't put fish on mine!" Donatello jokingly glared at Mikey as he said this, picking up the tray with the turkey on it and moving towards the oven.

"That's true, I had food poisoning, remember?" Mikey told Don with a laugh, a laugh that Donatello equally shared.

If there was one thing that they had learned, it was never to let Leo around fish and turkey at the same time. Raph and Mikey had ended up in Donatello's care for over a week due to severe food poisoning from the fish that they had eaten on the turkey. This little incident happened when the leader was 13 years old, and he had not cooked one thing since for the family**.**

**It's a good thing too, and I thought Raph was the bad cook…** Don thought in his own head, giving a small smile as he remembered the fiasco. He was kind of jealous of Leo, who was automatically not allowed to be a part of the turtle-kidnapping game that was always played on Turkey Day.

Michelangelo opened the oven door, and Donatello slid the turkey inside. He used his left foot to gently kick the door closed, not wanting to hold any sort of handlebar until his hand were clean. Mikey wiped a bit of forming sweat on his brow as he looked at his older brother who was crossing over to the sink.

Don washed his hands, using the dish washing soap to make sure that all traces of any raw turkey germs were no longer on his hands. The techno turtle gave a sigh, shaking off some of the water from his hands as he grabbed a pot from the cabinet above him.

"Mikey, could you get me those instant potatoes out of the pantry?" Donatello asked his brother with a sigh.

Without a sound except for hardly controlled laughter, Mikey strided over to the pantry like a skater on perfectly level ice. He soon returned to Donny's side, looked at the purple turtle with the most amused look on his face. It was an amused look that was now straining Donatello's last nerve. He ignored the orange turtle to the best of his ability, taking the box from Mikey with curt thanks as he studied the directions on the box. Donny was surprised by how thinking of cooking as a science experiment actually helped him.

He was actually starting to enjoy the chore of cooking now that he thought of it differently. Don started to pour the mix into the pot in front of him as his mind wandered again towards what could make the chore better. He concluded that the only thing that would have made the no longer dreaded task better was if Mikey would stop grinning that mischievous smile. It was a grin that made Donatello kind of disturbed in a way. If anyone could creep out Donatello without physical force in the family, it was his baby brother.

"What are you thinking, Mikey?" the purple-cladded turtle asked with an annoyed sigh.

"Oh, nothing!" Mikey quickly replied, that grin instantly going off his face as if he had just awoken from a daydream.

"Daydreaming?" Don questioned, his curiosity becoming a bit much for him.

"No, not at all! Hey, you're adding too much stuff…AGAIN!" Mikey immediately replied, forcing Don to look down and see that the mix that he had been pouring into the bowl was overflowing.

Don sighed, turning around to put the potatoes up when felt his foot slip on a bit of a turkey juice. The next few minutes consisted of cursing from a purple turtle on his shell as he got up off of the ground. He was covered in powdery white instant potatoes, and Mikey was laughing his butt off again.

"Gah, I'll get a broom and clean this up, please fix the potatoes," Don asked, rubbing where his elbows had connected the hard floor as he walked over to the corner of the kitchen where a raggedy old mop had made its home.

Mikey nodded through chuckles, and started to fix the potatoes without even reading the instructions on the back. He just did it like second nature, adding warm milk and butter while coaxing the fluffy potatoes to life. It was like magic, or he, himself working on an experiment, Don noted, not noticing the blush forming on his face. He forced his mind from other things as he grabbed a pail and put it in the sink near to where Mikey was, filling it with water.

He cleaned up the powdery mixture off of the ground, and muttered something to himself about being the first to the bathroom for a turtle soaking. Don turned around towards the oven as soon as the pail and the mop were put back in their respective locations, opening the oven to check on the turkey. It had only been around 2 hours since they had put it in, though, and it was far from done.

Mikey, meanwhile, was finished with the potatoes, and was watching Don check on the turkey. He fought to keep his own blush down as he looked at his sibling while he walked over to the refrigerator to grab himself a coca cola.

"'ey dude, it's gonna be awhile and the rest of the meal doesn't need to be cooked until the end, wanna chill for a bit. Maybe watch some TV?" Mikey asked, opening the can with his index finger with a small "hiss" of escaping gas from the can.

"I think I'll hit the bath, actually. Master Splinter wouldn't be pleased if I got instant potato mix on everything," Don replied, giving a small chuckle at the thought of getting a lecture about covering everything with the stuff that coated his body.

Mikey shrugged playfully as he exited the kitchen, leaving Don all in there by himself. **The purple-wearing turtle sighed, thinking Don, stop looking at your brother like that, he's too gentle to even consider…** He cut himself off with a shake of the head, turning and heading out of the kitchen and to the bath.

Strange enough, in the media room where Mikey was starting to play a new level of Space Destructors; he was thinking the same thing. **Don's always loved machines more than people, he'll never-** The orange turtle thought to himself, distracted. At one point, he got himself so distracted that he lost his last life in the game. With the "Game Over" red letters of death flashing, giving their light to the turtle's annoyed face, he said the closest thing to a curse word that the orange turtle could think of.

"Aw man!"

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Part 2 will be uploaded as soon as I can get my lazy butt into action! ^^


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